When Vayl Met Jaz
by FallingToGrace
Summary: Vayl officially meets Jaz for the first time.


**When Vayl Met Jaz**

Vayl knew he needed a partner the night he killed Frankie Stone.

_When the blood of your enemy no longer tastes sweet, the time has come to sleep. _An ancient Vampere saying, it had never made sense before that evening. When the hacker who had wormed his way past Wall Street's security measures and nearly caused global financial chaos lay dead at his feet in the same cave of an apartment where he had begun to plan the digital destruction of the pentagon. And Vayl had felt . . . nothing.

_So this is what it is like to embrace the monster._

Vayl had rubbed a clear spot from the brown residue that covered the sociopath's single basement level window. _I am completely numb. And not even knowing this upsets me._

He had pulled a gold chain out from under his black silk shirt and wrapped his hand around the ring his grandfather had made for him. It pulsed in his hand, sending warmth into his palm such as he had not experienced in decades. And along with the sensation came the realization.

He needed a partner.

Yes, but not just anyone.

Her.

* * *

Vayl knew that she referred to the people who worked regular shifts in their department as chair-spinners and back-spacers. It was not that she disrespected their calling. Only that she could not understand the mindset that would tolerate eight hours of analytical study followed by a weekend of household drudgery without greeting the following Monday by jumping off a bridge.

They, on the other hand, referred to her as "Calamity Jaz," in reference both to her tragic past and her uncanny ability to hit every target at which their Director, Pete, aimed her. This was, of course, behind her back. To her face they called her "Ms. Parks," when they were forced to speak to her at all. Vayl's understanding was that most of them stayed out of her way due to the fact that her intolerance for idiocy had become the stuff of office legend. On their first day new recruits learned their computer passwords, how to use the phone system, and that Calamity Jaz had once shoved an analyst against the wall and choked him into a faint because he had given her bad information regarding an informant that had resulted in the man's untimely death.

Passion. Fury. Purpose. He could sense it all seething under her fair skin as he watched her leave the Agency's bland brick building one night after a lengthy debriefing. Despite her mission's success, she walked as if she meant to bury her heels in the asphalt. Or perhaps her next victim's ribs.

This was what he needed.

A woman so volcanic even the tint of her hair reflected the direction of her thoughts. And as if he needed an excuse to bring her under his wing, one more talent attracted his attention, bringing him closer to excitement than he had been since thwarting an attempt on President Truman's life.

Jasmine Parks could sense vampires.

* * *

As soon as Pete understood the slant of Vayl's thoughts, he had allowed him to read Jasmine's file. Even then Vayl suspected her ability to track vampires was more than uncanny luck. Now, as he stood in the shadows of the coffee shop located opposite their department's parking lot, he understood the depth of her talent. She stopped walking halfway to her sleek red sports car. Turning on the heels of her black leather boots she faced him squarely, staring intently into the darkness as if she could see his face.

"I know you're out there," she called in a husky voice that slid from her throat into his like expensive whiskey. Without thinking he swallowed and took a step forward, entranced by that frail form encased in black leather, white silk and blue denim.

He stopped. _Come to me,_ he thought. _Let us . . . _ But no. The desires she stirred in him must be banked. Treasured, yes. But dammed out of respect for her pain, her need for professionalism, and his original purpose. She was the fire to melt his ice-coated core. An irony to top them all, this wounded beauty was the only person on earth who could heal him.

When he moved again, he adopted the purposeful stride of a businessman preparing to seal an important deal.

"Excellent work, Jasmine," he said as he allowed the shadows that had cloaked him to fall away. He watched her eyes and decided, as he cut the distance between them, that their shade reminded him most of spring clover. They widened as he moved in, not out of fear, but curiosity.

"You're the one, aren't you? The vamp Pete just nailed my career to." She jerked her head toward the building behind them as if she wished it would fall to pieces.

He bowed his head just enough to acknowledge her insight. He could, so easily, have stunned her with the timbre of his voice, swept her off her feet, and supped at her soft, white throat. But this longing, as well, must be locked away where she could never sense it.

He took a breath, inhaled the sweet scent of her vitality, and said, "My name is Vayl."


End file.
